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Tuesday, March 13, 2012

I remember listening to an interview on public radio many moons ago wherein a

writer was speaking about his process. I don't remember who he was. I have

thought about his words many times and wish I could hear the interview again.

When asked about his daily routine, the writer said that he started his day with a

cup of coffee and the newspaper. He would begin to think about getting to his

writing desk, but instead would have another cup of coffee, and find something

to do that would buy him more time. Eventually he would eat breakfast and then

find something else that might prolong the journey to the desk. He admitted that

getting to writing was a daily practice of slowly moving closer to it in a round about

way. It sounded to me like a predator slowly circling his kill, waiting for the

exact moment to strike. Eventually he got to his desk and began writing. When

asked about the practice of writing, he said that writing is something that it easy

for everyone, except if one is a writer, then it is extremely difficult.

"Gray Mountain", watercolor, VClaff 2010

Last week I had the week off from teaching, and had the gift of many days in the

studio. The words of the writer were with me as I circled around the studio the first

morning, considering one possibility or another, before landing on a course of action

for BEGINNING. Though I had been painting here and there over the last few weeks,

this was the moment of deepening the exploration and inquiry, not just getting back

to putting brush to paper.

I opened a very old sketchbook that was only partially filled, tore out the old drawings, and began with spirals. It was a bit like journaling as I found myself scribbling words beside the spirals, a good way to begin. I liked that occasionally the spiral bled through to the next page. The words near the spiral below are:

Just to be clear, I don't know where I'm going.

Eventually, after many pages of these, I pulled out my new stock of watercolor

paper, ripped the sizes I wanted, taped them to boards, and began to paint landscapes.

It was the moment to strike. After the first day, the bit about writing being hard

for the writer was definitely where I was at - substitute painting being hard for the

painter. I spent that evening worrying that my work had become too conventional,

that my obsession with trees and mists and distant ridges was repetitive and that

during that whole day I had produced nothing of value.

Luckily, I've been at this long enough to know that I needed to get to the studio the

following day and continue. After untaping the paintings from the day before, I

began to see that possibly a few were OK. I continued for the remainder of the

week, and found myself in a blissful flow of work. Not that self-doubt is gone, no,

it keeps me digging deeper into the possibilities of the materials and the image and

taking risks to find something surprising. More than anything, I need to engage

deeply in my process, with enough time and space that the rest of the world melts

away. In those moments my imagination takes me high into the hills with views across

vast spaces to the mountains beyond. There is absolutely nothing I can do about

my obsession with this. One can really only make one's own work, otherwise, its

just pretending.

"Ridges & Mists", watercolor, VClaff 2012

The paintings in this post were made last week. The top two

are small, about 7x5 inches, the rest are larger, roughly 12 x 10 inches or so.

Seeing them here, I think the color is somewhat off. I need to re-shoot them,

but you get an idea.

"Ridges & Mists", watercolor, VClaff 2012

"Distant Hills", watercolor, VClaff 2010

"Winter Hills & Sky", watercolor, VClaff, 2012

The new studio is simply a joy to work in. Beautiful light, warm, open space, I love it.

Even Pasha has found his place here. I leave you with images from the studio and

from walks with Pasha this week and last. Things truly evolve, and it feels good to

be having an intimate dialogue with my work again. Thoughtful listening and strings

of questions lead to new understanding - and then there is dreaming...

About Me

I dwell in a peaceful forest clearing amongst tall, sweeping hemlocks. A gathering of oaks encircles my home, and ravens cling to the shadows in the deep shade of the forest beyond. They gift me with squawking and rhythmic beats of wings and call to life the wild spirit within. The mosses, stones and trees, creature beings and spirits of the deep wood whisper, inspire and enchant. I remember and dream and reclaim myself as a sacred being in the web of all life, doing my best to live my life between the culture to which I belong, and the forest which is my true home.
I make things visual in watercolors, oils, ink, scratchboard, and clay/mixed-media. I sing ancient sounding songs (so I'm told) and tell stories from magical realms and the land of dreams.